The New Downton

So. Now that I've gotten around to watching the third season of Downton Abbey, like you to know what I thought of it?

As I explained last year, the first two seasons didn't make me such a big fan of the show as many people are. I sort of enjoyed watching it once and that was it. So it figures that, when I've heard some say that Season 3 was the worst so far, it would be the one I enjoy the most. But what factors exactly made that difference? Three things come to mind.

Most shows need some time to get on their feet, get the characters settled in, and get the audience used to the characters. In the first season, I didn't exactly like any of the characters; by Season 2, I started to be more interested in some than others. But in Season 3, I actually started to care about them--still not all of them, but some of them. That in itself can make a big difference. (If you were wondering, I usually like Branson and Anna and sometimes Daisy.)

There is also the timeline. It mildly bothered me that the show made such big leaps across time over so few episodes. Pre-war, then suddenly the war starts, then suddenly it's over, and so on. I felt like that didn't allow the small things to develop, if everything was constantly being forced forward. But Season 3 remained in a relatively small amount of time.

Last year I described the camera's fly-on-the-wall approach, saying that it left the audience to make their own judgments. I didn't always know what my reaction was supposed to be. But now I know. Carson and Maggie Smith's character deliver funny lines (unintentionally on the characters' parts). Everyone hopes for things to work out for Anna and Bates and for Mary and Matthew. So on and so forth. If I had originally fell in love with the old format, I can see how I might be slower to embrace the new, more common one. But I didn't, so I enjoy this one better.

It feels like more of a drama now, whereas before there was a certain distance from the characters' emotions, I thought. It was that distance that I didn't like. Now, however, I find myself rather wishing Season 4 weren't so far away (in the U.S., that is).

Wuthering Heights: Seasons of Good & Ill

I wasn't even going to write anything about this movie until I glanced at the Netflix reviews and saw that, with a couple of exceptions, most of them were terrible. Really? Was it really as bad as that?

The thing is, I've never watched another movie adaption of Wuthering Heights. I just couldn't, ironically, stomach any others. I only started watching one and stopped a few minutes in: it was too ridiculously different from the book. Although I believe that there is a love story within the book, there is much more to it--and it is a very specific kind of love story.

The 2011 adaptation of Wuthering Heights by Andrea Arnold was, from start to finish, confusing and disturbing. Slow, too. But that, my friends, is why I could stomach it. The novel is confusing and disturbing and multi-layered (which can force slower reading). It's a brilliant masterpiece, but it is also confusing and disturbing. So for the movie to include these rather non-cinematic traits was, in my view, a success, whatever else the film did or did not do. Everything that is outside of the cinematic norm (from the lack of music, the often close camera angles, the dialogue shown from a distance, the quietness, the nature shots, the violence, etc.) is what helps make this movie different and moving in a much more methodical way.

That isn't to say I loved everything about this movie. For instance, while the cinematography constantly likened Heathcliff to Nature, implying the theory that the cycles of violence in the story are just seasons of Nature that will run their course and then pass away, there is no cycle after Heathcliff. There is no story of the "new generation" that takes over once Heathcliff and Cathy and Linton are all gone. But, as I understand it, this isn't something that most films include, anyway. And it's understandable: the plot is long, convoluted, confusing, and circular. It's a great plot, but a difficult one to portray on film. So while this version may not have portrayed all the cycles, at least it got one near right.

It needs at least a mention to address the (first) casting of Heathcliff as black. What could have been a complicated introduction of race into the story felt, in fact, more subtle. It simply helps to emphasize, for modern audiences, Heathcliff's isolation. In the book, he does look like an outsider and he is nearly always treated this way; the casting just gives a visual to this difference. It also helps to further liken Heathcliff with Nature. In the scene where he starts covering Cathy in mud, it isn't as if he's trying to make her black--it's as if he's trying to connect her deeper with the earth.

All this said, I still wouldn't recommend the movie to most viewers. It's more of an art house film, and yes, you're right if you call some of it disturbing (but I thought The Hunger Games was disturbing, and look how popular that was). So watch it if you're familiar with the book and want to ponder one visual approach to the story.

Simón Coll: Xocolata A La Pedra

As I finish off with my last little gift from Santa Fe, we take a new turn toward drinking chocolate. I seem to only have been covering weirder incarnations of chocolate, as opposed to a plain and solid quality chocolate bar. Not that I'm calling drinking chocolate weird; in fact, it is heavenly and perhaps a more natural way to consume chocolate than as a bar. Part of chocolate's beauty is the way that it melts in your mouth, so drinking chocolate just simplifies the process. 

I didn't recognize the name Simón Coll, but I have in fact had contact with them, in a roundabout way. Back on Chocablog, I once reviewed a product by another Spanish company, Chocolate Amatller. It turns out that Simón Coll now owns Chocolate Amattler. They do share one thing in common: beautiful, historic packaging on certain products. I thought that the Xocolata A La Pedra packaging was nice, but gained more appreciation when I discovered that this same wrapper design has been on the market since 1880. Why change it when it's already perfect?

The bar is bulky and thick; it lets you know right away that it wasn't designed for eating straight. Being trusting, I followed the instructions on the back exactly. You heat milk (or almond beverage, in my case), remove it from the heat, add three squares of chocolate, stir them occasionally for two minutes, return to heat, and allow to boil so that it can thicken. Three fat squares plus a cup of milk means that each serving is big. Unless you're used to rich drinking chocolate, I would recommend that amount for two or maybe even three people. 

At about 45% cacao, this chocolate would be fairly light as a bar. But as drinking chocolate, the lower percentage keeps it from being too dark; I imagine it also helps keep the texture in control. While the drink is thick, it isn't mud thick. Sip it slowly and it feels just right. There is cinnamon added in, although I can't say that I tasted it much. I would call this drink neither sweet nor bitter, but if it leans more to one side, it would be toward the darker side. It's rich enough that I got nowhere near being able to finish off my "one serving." But maybe I'm just thinking in long term. If I used three squares each time, I'd only get four servings out of this bar; as it is, I can get eight to twelve. That's a week and a half of perfect, chocolate evenings.

Anna Karenina's Stage

I mean only to talk about one aspect of last year's film Anna Karenina: the use of the stage.

Most people who have taken the time to read the very long (though of course not as long as War and Peace) Tolstoy book love it; but I know that I read it a little young. So I don't have the same connection to the story that others have. This, in turn, is why I'm focusing only on one stylistic choice in the film version.

When I heard about the stage usage, I imagined that the film would be like a play, taking place entirely on the platform. Visibly. But it in fact moves around the stage, above it and in front of it. Some scenes are barely recognizable as using the stage, they're placed around it so creatively. The result is that the stage becomes a character and a symbol, representing the idea of looking and being looked at. Sometimes it is barely noticeable, sometimes it fits well into its surroundings, and other times it is painfully obvious.

All this fits into the story's commentary about society. Generally, the wealthy are at the center of the stage, with the bustle of the city streets, for instance, taking place in the rafters above the stage. This example sets up the wealthy as capable of ignoring the common people but also depending on them--because they are the hands behind the scenes. It's a little dizzying at times, which I took to be the point. Movie Anna is caught between her awareness of being looked at and her own conflicting gazes.

Whatever else the movie did, its use of the stage I found effective and innovative. If such a method has been used in such a way before, I don't think I've seen it. So for me, it may have been the best part of the movie.

The Speaker Finds a Home

Oh, Ender. One of the most wonderful fictional characters I have met. How was I to know I was missing out so much by not reading Ender's Game earlier?

Reading it was enough of an impact that I had to wait a few days before beginning the sequel, Speaker for the Dead. If there be any need, let it be known that I don't know how to talk about this book without going into slight plot details.

At first, I was resentful of the new setting and characters, until I realized that Ender was on his way back into the center of the plot. But by not starting with him in the center, the format builds up the importance of other people and relationships in his life--a full life cannot be focused solely on itself. To think of Ender nearly alone, hiding his past for so many years breaks my heart. Then to see him finally finding a place to call home, that was heartbreakingly sweet.

This book had so much to take in, both emotionally and philosophically. Or socially and politically. The format, combining elements of mystery, allows the reader to go through the questioning process. You question who the different characters are and who the different groups of characters are, as well as how they might best interact. You question the impact the past has on the present and the responsibility of the individual. It's the story of life and death, war and peace, aloneness and community.

I found myself quickly making comparisons as I read to things like C.S. Lewis's The Space Trilogy, The Host, and Star Wars (isn't Ender a bit like a Jedi?). But as generalizations, these are of course useless. My point is that elements in this book reminded me of elements, whether having to do with setting or characters, that I have enjoyed in other stories. The Ender's Game series is dressed up in the sci-fi packaging I don't usually reach for, which is one thing that kept me from reading it for so long. But at its heart, it isn't so very foreign to me, after all. I may need a few more days to finish taking in this book before I move on to the next one.

I match the book to Michelle Chamuel's cover of "Somewhere Only We Know."

Nestle: Thin Mints Crunch Bar

They used to sell Girl Scouts cookies on campus sometimes; I almost bought a box once, until I got close enough to realize that they were $4 a box, which was more money than I had with me. Not that I had anything against the idea of giving $4 to Girl Scouts. But that's the thing, isn't it? When you buy a box of those cookies, you're donating more than you are purchasing. The Thin Mints are the most popular--and their quality is still in line with Little Debbie's, which are not $4. But they're still Thin Mints. We've all had them at some point and their association with child entrepreneurs makes them a bit of an American icon. Slightly. 

Now Nestle has paired up with the Girl Scouts, colliding their Crunch bar with the cookies. If someone offered me one of the other flavors, I would take it, but on my own I'm only interested in the Thin Mints variety. And I hope I don't disappoint any ex-Girl Scouts out there, but the Crunch bar version is better than the regular cookie version. Definitely.

Don't misunderstand me, there are still plenty of cheap ingredients in these candy bars, from hydrogenated palm kernel oil to artificial flavors (surprisingly to me, there is in fact a little natural mint flavor, as well). But they have more chocolate and more texture than the cookies, due in large part to their fatter size. The candy bar is somewhere around the thickness of a Snickers. There are about three dark wafer layers wrapped in chocolate. The top chocolate layer, as you can see, comes studded with crisped rice--that appears to be the only Crunch-inspired element. Rather than coming in one bar, each packet contains two pieces. You can share, save one for later, or just pretend that they're two rectangular cookies.

The wafers and crisped rice give airy crunch to the bar, and the (oily) chocolate keeps it sweet. Unless my memory fails me, the level of minty flavor matches the Thin Mint cookies: ever present without being strong. It all strikes me as a less dry version of the cookies.

You know, even when I was hungry, I couldn't eat more than just one of the pieces; they're sweet. So they're not something I would want to buy all the time if they weren't Limited Edition. But as a one-time novelty, they're interesting. Do you think Girl Scouts would sell more or less if, instead of cookie boxes, they had candy bars like this to sell?

In Celebration

Forgive me if I do go overboard, but in celebration of the Fourth of July (Independence Day, that is), I'd like to go over a few memories from the past year. Let's start with images from last year:

Then there came the stormy monsoon season.

Along with a friendly visit to Fort Verde; this is one of the upstairs bedrooms.

Must not forget Sedona and its Red Rocks.

With Thanksgiving came a multitude of my favorite, turkeys. 

December brought cold and an evening trip to Prescott to walk around the Square and admire the lights on the Courthouse. 

February saw clear skies and a sprinkling of sunshine.

Spring Break took me to the enchanting Mission Inn in Riverside, CA.

We must not exclude a picture from Disneyland (California Adventure, actually). You're cool if you know where this picture was taken.

Visiting dinosaurs in the Discovery area of the Natural History Museum.

Saying goodbye to the outside of the main library at ASU.

While I'm at it, here's graduation.

That's enough of pictures of me. Here's a tiger at Out of Africa heading back to its habitat.

And here's a baby turkey.

Here it is a little older, in what I call the dinosaur stage (with chickens it's the alien stage).

And here's a different bird swimming in the ocean. 

Sunset Crater, up in Flagstaff. 

 Now let's finish with a branch reaching away from the obsidian and basalt encrusted earth toward the sky.

I promise, I'm done now. Happy Fourth.